


With Arms Outstretched

by birdbrains



Series: Propellers [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Dom/sub, Established Relationship, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Mutilation, Rape Fantasy, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-08
Updated: 2016-04-08
Packaged: 2018-06-01 01:25:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6495346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/birdbrains/pseuds/birdbrains
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's nice to think about, and there's nothing wrong with it, really--it helps--but it wouldn't be right to tell Steve about it in this much detail.</p>
            </blockquote>





	With Arms Outstretched

**Author's Note:**

> Not a real fic, just an extra. Contemporaneous with Let Me Come Through. Can you believe there isn't a fuckpotato tag yet.

"What are you thinking about?" Steve says.

"I forgot," Bucky says, and Steve says:

"You have a mind like a steel sieve."

Bucky noses up into his hand, forgetting his face is wet until it's too late. Maybe he does have memory problems, but he'll deal with that and anyway, it's the least of his concerns.

He knows Steve goes tense all over, even though it's dark--his hand on Bucky's cheek feels different, and there's a very soft intake of breath. _That_ 's a major concern. "I forgot," Bucky says again, defensively.

Steve actually laughs a little. Good. "Stubborn's not a good look on you," is all he says.

"I know," Bucky says. "You want to show me how mad you are about it?" and Steve laughs again, _good_ , and runs his fingers back to grab Bucky's hair, which is even better.

Steve plays with him for a minute, just pulling his hair and making fun of Bucky when he gasps--"Oh, come on. It can't hurt that much." Then he's just touching Bucky's face again, and he says, "I'm not mad at you. I get it. And there'd be no point--you're just going to do whatever you want, anyway, aren't you?"

"That's right," Bucky says.

///

Steve takes Bucky into the backyard and shoots him with a bag over his head.

They've never had a backyard--Bucky had a backyard until he was ten, but never again--but still, it's a backyard, and it's not a city backyard either. Behind the house is just woods and woods. It's the middle of nowhere. There's no one to hear Bucky screaming, no one to hear the gunshot. What's Steve going to do with his body?

God, that's a little too sad to think about, even for this.

And Bucky can't decide between the bag over his head and the gun in his mouth.

///

This part he could just barely tell Steve: Steve wrestles him to the ground. Bucky fights back but Steve is stronger but Bucky comes up swinging, spitting and snarling. He doesn't know who Steve is, or who he is, or anything but the mission, the target; he's like an invisible person, a shape in and out of which impressions move. He doesn't have anything of his own.

Except Steve hunts him down, in the woods maybe--could Steve track him by smell? Bucky can track people by smell--and he catches him and ties his hands behind his back with something that Bucky can't break, if there is such a thing. Bucky's fighting but Steve's too strong, and it doesn't matter what Bucky does.

"You can stop," Steve says, "it's over," but Bucky keeps fighting. And eventually he makes an escape attempt, so--

"Then what?" Steve asks.

Well, Steve cuts his arms and legs off so he can't get away. "I stop fighting," Bucky says. Steve raises his eyebrows at him. "I don't know. I forget what happens," Bucky says.

"Oh, really," Steve says.

///

It's two things at once--hot and cold, fast and slow. But anyway, Steve cuts off his arms and legs so he can't get away, but it's really two birds with one stone, because no one will _want_ him for anything now. He can't fight. Well, maybe they could make him more prosthetics. Steve will have to blind him, maybe give him some head injuries or health problems. Steve will figure it out.

The point is, he's useless. He couldn't hurt anyone if he tried. He only exists to be fucked by Steve. And maybe Steve passes him around to other people--no, he doesn't. He's jealous, he doesn't want to share. Even if Bucky's just an object, he's Steve's object, so if Steve's done with him for a while he just leaves Bucky lying around the house.

So if Bucky has permission to jerk off--or even if he doesn't, sometimes he can't help thinking about this and making himself miserably, helplessly sore--he thinks about how he'd look. He'd just be this _lump_ , bruised and filthy and wet, with come all over him. Steve kicks him, beats him, pisses on him--that's what he's for.

Actually, even if Bucky wouldn't want to be fucked by anyone else, it is nice to think that visitors to Steve's house would see him left on the floor like that. "What _is_ that?" they might ask. They'd be a little disgusted, but mostly curious. A few would be concerned.

"Don't worry about it," Steve would say to the concerned citizens. "He likes it. He can't tell the difference anyway."

Other times, he wrenches himself right out of a nightmare and into a long impressionistic series of images--the same kind of thing, but different. The dark, the quiet (has Steve deafened him? That's too bad--Bucky'd like to be able to hear him), the way Steve would have to do everything for him, carry him, feed him. Let's say Bucky can eat solid foods.

Steve forgets to feed him sometimes, but when he does he signals--his fingers press in between Bucky's lips, telling him to open his mouth. Bucky complies, chews, swallows, complies again. Steve wouldn't make him eat out of a dog bowl even though that's fun to think about. He'd feed him each individual bite and Bucky would kiss his fingers to thank him.

It'd be nicer to be able to hear Steve--and Bucky'd like to be able to talk, too, Steve would want to hear him beg, and hear his opinions about things--but being deaf would be okay too. They'd figure out a way to communicate, and the only thing that Bucky really _needs_ are Steve's hands--that's the only thing he needs to know it's Steve. Pinching him, choking him, rubbing his back. Other people wouldn't do it the same way.

It does make him cry a little, the thought of being that safe. Sometimes he doesn't get hard, but usually it's both.

///

Bucky is accordion pleating the dish towels. It's eight in the morning--an okay time to be doing things like this, except Bucky has been standing in the kitchen doing things like this for four hours. Steve groans when he comes in and sees him. He comes up behind Bucky and presses up against him, wrapping an arm around his chest. "I had those towels the way they were for a reason," he says.

"You just had them in a pile," Bucky says. "The dish towels and the cloth napkins are the same color, too. They were indistinguishable."

"They were like that for a reason."

"What's the reason?"

There's a long pause and Steve says, "Well, so you'd know not to question my decisions, of course." Bucky's at least able to smile.

///

Steve answers the phone when the hospital calls. Bucky tries to tell him he doesn't have to do it, but Steve just points under the table.

They used to play under the table when they were kids. It's definitely harder for an adult. But Bucky stays down there, leaning against Steve's leg while he talks on the phone. "Yeah, he did a Release of Information form for me," Steve says. He gives the person his birthday, and Bucky's birthday. "Wait a second, let me write that down," he says. Bucky leans his face against Steve's knee and when Steve finishes writing, his hand comes down and threads into Bucky's hair. He holds him there until the phone call is over.

"So," Bucky says.

"Well, you know the medicine they gave you for your intestinal problems," Steve says. "That they thought you might be immune to?"

"Right."

"It turns out it actually has the opposite effect on you that it would on a nonenhanced person. So we've actually been, well, poisoning you. You been feeling sicker than usual?"

"Hm," Bucky says. He tries not to think about it.

///

Steve hunts him down, ties him up, holds him with a gun to his head, and Bucky doesn't know who he is. In real life, it's like he's always almost drowning--swimming, kicking to the surface, the current always stronger than him. The weight of it on him when he wakes up in the morning. Forcing his mind to the top, forcing himself to keep being, to keep knowing, to keep getting up every day.

But in his fantasies the current has him. That's okay because Steve subdues him, beats the shit out of him, restrains him, and says:

"You're strong. You've been really brave, Buck. But that's over now."

///

You're just going to do whatever you want, anyway, aren't you?

You're going to have to. It's your life.

It's your life for the rest of your life.

Bucky wakes up feeling like his whole body is made out of lead. He brushes his teeth, combs his hair, briefly leans against the wall to give himself a talking to. He leaves the house. And he worries about being fair to Steve, being careful with Steve--it's only right. Steve is certainly worried about being careful with him.

///

Steve takes him out back and shoots him like something extra, something broken, something that doesn't work right anymore. It's okay. Bucky doesn't mind.

He's bruised and bloody--Steve tried everything to get him to remember, to fix him, but it just didn't work. Bucky's weak. He sags against Steve as Steve leads him out there. He's blindfolded. He tells Steve he's sorry.

"Nothing to be sorry for," Steve says--does he have to prop Bucky up against something to shoot him, since Bucky can't stand on his own? Or does Bucky manage to stand on his own? No, Steve will hold him while he does it.

"You did great, Buck," Steve says. "You did so--"-- _good_ , nice to hear because it's so rare. "It's all done, okay?" His fingers press on Bucky's lips; Bucky opens his mouth for the barrel.

///

It's nice to think about, and there's nothing wrong with it, really--it helps--but it wouldn't be right to tell Steve about it in this much detail.

**Author's Note:**

> Russian translation: [Широко раскинув руки](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13758237) by WTF_Marvel_Trash_Party_2018 / Jasherk!
> 
> Their unidentified and very talented friend also drew [this picture of Steve executing Bucky](https://archiveofourown.org/comments/155810283).


End file.
